CHAPTER XXI
END OF THE ITALIAN JOURNEY
"Well, Monsieur le Cardinal," said the young king, warmly, "am I not to be allowed a moment of leisure and freedom even in this place?"
"Sire," replied Charles de Lorraine, "I am very sorry to disobey your Majesty's orders; but the affair which has led my brother and myself hither is of too great moment to admit of delay."
As he spoke, the Duc de Guise came gravely in, saluted the king and queen silently, and remained standing behind his brother, mute, immovable, and very serious.
"Very well! I am listening, Monsieur; therefore speak," said François to the cardinal.
"Sire," continued the latter, "a conspiracy against your Majesty has been discovered, and your life is no longer safe in this Château de Blois; you should depart hence immediately."
"A conspiracy! Depart from Blois!" exclaimed the king. "Pray, what does all this mean?"
"It means, Sire, that evil-minded men are conspiring against the life and the crown of your Majesty."
"What!" said François, "can they have any ill-will against me, so young as I am, and only seated on the throne yesterday! against me, who have never injured a single soul,—that is to say, knowingly or wilfully! Who are these evil-minded men, Monsieur le Cardinal?"
"Why, who should they be," rejoined Charles de Lorraine, "if not these cursed Huguenot heretics?"
"Heretics again!" cried the king. "Are you sure, Monsieur, that you are not allowing yourself to be led astray by suspicions which have no foundation in fact?"
"Alas!" said the cardinal, "there is, unhappily, no room for doubt now."
The young king, whose delightful dreams were thus interrupted by this unpleasant reality, seemed greatly annoyed; Mary was much disturbed by his ill-humor, and the cardinal very anxious over the news he had brought. Le Balafré, alone calm and self-controlled, awaited the result of all this talk in an attitude of utter impassibility.
"In God's name, what have I done to my people that they love me no longer!" continued François, bitterly.
"I think I told your Majesty that it is only the Huguenots who are rebellious," said the Cardinal de Lorraine.
"Well, they are Frenchmen!" rejoined the king. "In fact, Monsieur le Cardinal, I have intrusted all my power to your hands in the hope that you would cause it to be blessed, and yet I am continually encompassed by anxiety and complaints and discontent."
"Oh, Sire, Sire!" exclaimed Mary Stuart, reproachfully.
The Cardinal de Lorraine retorted dryly,—
"It would be hardly fair, Sire, to hold us responsible for ills which are due entirely to the troublous condition of the time."
"Nevertheless, Monsieur," continued the youthful king, "I should like for once to know the real condition of affairs, and to be without you at my side for a while, so that I might ascertain whether the disaffection is directed against myself or you."
"Oh, your Majesty!" cried Mary Stuart, in great alarm.
François said no more, for he already reproached himself for having gone too far. The Duc de Guise did not manifest the least disturbance. Charles de Lorraine, after an embarrassing silence, replied, with the dignified and constrained air of a man unjustly offended,—
"Sire, since we are unfortunate enough to see that our efforts are misunderstood or not appreciated, and are therefore useless, it only remains for us, as your loyal subjects and devoted kinsmen, to give place to others more worthy or more fortunate—"
The king, in his confusion, said nothing; and the cardinal continued, after a pause,—
"Your Majesty has only to tell us in whose hands to place our seals of office. So far as I am concerned, nothing will be easier than to fill my place. Your Majesty will simply have to choose between Monsieur le Chancelier Olivier, Monsieur le Cardinal de Tournon, and Monsieur de l'Hôpital."
Mary Stuart hid her face in her hands in despair; while poor repentant François would have asked for nothing better than to recall his childish indignation, but the haughty silence of Le Balafré frightened him.
Charles de Lorraine continued: "The office of grand master, however, and the management of affairs in case of war, demand such extraordinary talents and such lofty renown that, after my brother, I can think of only two men who could venture to pretend to fill his place,—Monsieur de Brissac, perhaps—"
"Oh, Brissac is always scolding, and always in a passion!" exclaimed the king; "he is not to be thought of!"
"Well, the other one," continued the cardinal, "is Monsieur de Montmorency, who surely has the renown even though he lacks the necessary talents."
"Oh, no!" François objected again; "Monsieur le Connétable is too old for me, and he formerly treated the dauphin too slightingly to make it probable that he would serve the king with due respect to-day. But, Monsieur le Cardinal, why do you omit to mention my other kinsmen, the princes of the blood,—the Prince de Condé, for example?"
"Sire," said the cardinal, "it is with deep regret that I inform your Majesty of the fact, but among the names of the secret leaders of the conspiracy that has been unearthed, that of the Prince de Condé stands first."
"Is it possible?" asked the young king, almost stupefied.
"Sire, there is no doubt about it."
"Then this must be really a serious conspiracy against the State?" said François.
"It is almost a rebellion, Sire," replied the cardinal; "and since your Majesty relieves my brother and myself from the most awful responsibility that has ever been laid upon us, my duty compels me to implore you to name our successors as soon as possible,—for the Huguenots will be under the walls of Blois in a few days."
"What do you say, my uncle?" cried Mary, in dismay.
"The truth, Madame."
"Are the rebels numerous?" asked the king.
"Sire, they are said to be two thousand strong," replied the cardinal. "There were rumors that their advance-guard was already near La Carrelière, but I could hardly believe them until Monsieur de Mouchy brought me intelligence of the conspiracy from Paris. We will withdraw now, Sire, Monsieur de Guise and myself—"
"What's that?" exclaimed François. "Do you both select such a time of danger as this to desert me?"
"But I thought I understood, Sire," returned Charles de Lorraine, "that such was your Majesty's intention."
"What do you wish?" said the king. "I cannot help being sad when I see how many enemies you have made—I mean how many enemies I have! But come, let us say no more about it, good uncle; give me more details as to the insolent attempt of these rebels."
"Pardon, Sire!" retorted the cardinal, still standing on his dignity; "after what your Majesty has said, it seems to me that others than ourselves—"
"Oh, dear uncle, I implore you to say no more about my hasty words, which I am sorry for," said François II. "What more can I say? Must I apologize, pray, and ask your pardon?"
"Oh, Sire!" said Charles de Lorraine, "at the moment that your Majesty restores his precious confidence to us—"
"Entirely, and with all my heart," added the king, offering his hand to the cardinal.
"Just so much valuable time lost!" said the Duc de Guise, gravely.
It was the first word he had uttered since the beginning of the interview.
He came forward now, as if all that had gone before had been simply unimportant preliminaries a wearisome prologue, in which he had allowed the Cardinal de Lorraine to sustain the principal part; but these puerile discussions being at an end, he haughtily took the floor and assumed the initiative.
"Sire," said he to the king, "this, in brief, is the condition of affairs: two thousand rebels, commanded by Baron de la Renaudie, and encouraged underhand by the Prince de Condé, are preparing a descent at this time from Poitou, Béarn, and other provinces, with the view of surprising Blois and carrying off your Majesty."
François made a gesture of indignation and surprise.
"Carry off the king!" cried Mary Stuart.
"And you with him, Madame," continued Le Balafré. "But never fear; we will take good care of your Majesties."
"What measures do you propose to take?" asked the king.
"We received warning of this only an hour since," said the Duc de Guise. "But the first thing to do, Sire, is to assure the safety of your sacred person. For that purpose, it is necessary that you should leave this unfortified town of Blois and its unprotected château this very day, to withdraw to Amboise, where there is a fortified château which will protect you against a sudden blow."
"What!" said the queen; "imprison ourselves in that vile Château d'Amboise, perched up on top of a rock, and so gloomy and sad!"
"Child!" was what Le Balafré's harsh look said to his niece, though he did not put it in words.
He said simply,—
"Madame, it must be done!"
"But that will be flying from these rebels!" said the young king, trembling with rage.
"Sire," rejoined the duke, "you cannot fly from an enemy who has not yet attacked you, nor even declared war against you. We are supposed to be in ignorance of the guilty designs of these factionists."
"However, we do know them," said François.
"I beg your Majesty to rely upon me as regards these questions of honor," replied François de Lorraine. "We do not shun the combat simply by changing the field of battle; and I sincerely hope that the rebels will take the trouble of following us to Amboise."
"Why do you say that you hope so, Monsieur?" asked the king.
"Why?" said Le Balafré, with his superb smile. "Because it will be a good opportunity to put an end once for all to heretics and heresy; because it is high time to strike at them in some other way than in fiction and allegory; because I would have given two fingers of my hand—my left hand—to bring about without difficulty the decisive struggle which these reckless fools are inviting, for our triumph."
"Alas!" sighed the king, "is this struggle anything less than civil war?"
"Let us accept it for the sake of having done with it," replied the Duc de Guise. "This, in a word, is my plan,—your Majesty must remember that we have only these rebels to deal with: Saving this retreat from Blois, which will not arouse their suspicions, I hope, we will affect the most complete security and most utter ignorance in regard to their plans. And when they advance upon us, like the traitors that they are, to surprise us, we shall be the ones to surprise them, and catch them in their own trap. Therefore let no sign of alarm escape you, or any appearance of flight; this advice is meant especially for you, Madame," he said, turning to Mary. "My orders will be given, and your people notified to be ready, but it will be done secretly. Let there be no suspicion outside of our preparations or our apprehensions, and I will answer for everything."
"What hour is fixed for our departure?" asked François, with a dejected air of resignation.
"Sire, three in the afternoon," said the duke; "I have taken all needful steps."
"What! before coming to me?"
"Even so, Sire," replied Le Balafré, firmly; "for before I came to you, I was perfectly sure that your Majesty would listen to the voice of reason and honor."
"Very well!" said the young king, with a feeble smile, completely conquered, "we will be ready at three o'clock, Monsieur; we have every confidence in you."
"Sire," said the duke, "I thank you for your confidence, and will strive to merit it. But I beg your Majesty to excuse me, for at such times minutes are precious, and I have twenty letters to write, and a hundred commissions to give out. Therefore my brother and myself will humbly take leave of your Majesty."
He saluted the king and queen quite abruptly, and went out with the cardinal.
François and Mary gazed at each other ruefully for a moment without speaking.
"Well, my darling," said the king at last, "how about our fair vision of a journey to Rome?"
"It seems to have resolved itself into a flight to Amboise," sighed Mary.
At this moment Madame Dayelle, the queen's first lady-in-waiting, appeared.
"Pray, Madame, is this true that I have heard?" said she, after the ordinary salutation. "Must we break up our establishment here at once, and quit Bloise for Amboise?"
"It is only too true, my poor Dayelle," replied Mary.
"Do you know, Madame, that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in that château?—not even a decent mirror!"
"Then we must carry everything from here, Dayelle," said the queen. "Write out at once a list of the things we must have; I will dictate to you. In the first place, my new dress of crimson damask with gold lace trimming—"
Turning to the king, who was still standing in the window recess, thoughtful and sad,—
"Just fancy, Sire," said she, "the audacity of these Reformers! But, pardon me, you ought also to be thinking about what things you will need at Amboise, so that you will not be unprovided."
"No," said François; "I will leave all that to Aubert, my valet de chambre. I myself can think of nothing but my disappointment."
"Do you think mine is any less bitter?" said Mary. "Madame Dayelle, put down my violet farthingale covered with gold camblet, and my white damask dress with silver trimming. But we must make the best of it," she continued, addressing the king, "and not run the risk of being without articles of the first importance. Madame Dayelle, don't forget my bedgown of plain cloth-of-gold trimmed with lynx. Not for ages, Sire, has the old Château d'Amboise been inhabited by the court, has it?"
"Since the days of Charles VIII.," said François, "I do not think that a king of France has ever lived there for more than two or three days."
"And we may have to stay there a whole month!" exclaimed Mary. "Oh, those wretched Huguenots! Don't you think, Madame Dayelle, that the bedchamber at all events will be partly furnished?"
"The surest way, Madame," said the lady-in-waiting, shaking her head, "will be to go prepared to find nothing at all there."
"Then put down the gold-framed mirror," said the queen, "the violet velvet jewel-case, and the shaggy carpet to put around the bed. But have subjects ever before been known, Sire," she continued in a low tone, returning to the king's side, "to march against their master thus, and drive him from his own house, so to speak?"
"Never, I think, Mary," was François's melancholy reply. "Sometimes scoundrels have been known to resist the execution of the king's commands, as was the case fifteen years since at Mérindol and La Cabrière; but to attack the king in the first place,—I could never have imagined such a thing, I declare!"
"Oh, my uncle Guise is right, then! We cannot take too many precautions against these hot-headed rebels. Madame Dayelle, add a dozen or so pairs of shoes, and twelve pillows and sheets. Is that all? Really, I believe I am losing my mind! Wait a moment, my dear! Here, put in this velvet pincushion and this gold candlestick and bodkin and gilt needle-case. There, I see nothing else."
"Will not Madame carry her two jewel-cases?"
"Yes, indeed, I will carry them!" cried Mary, eagerly. "Leave them here! Why, they might fall into the hands of these miscreants, might they not, Sire? I am quite sure I will carry them."
"It will be a wise precaution," said François, with a slight smile.
"I think I have omitted nothing else of consequence, my dear Dayelle?" continued Mary, looking around the room.
"Madame will remember her 'Book of Hours,' I trust," said the maid-of-honor, rather affectedly.
"Ah, I should have forgotten them," said Mary, ingenuously. "Let me have the finest ones,—the one which my uncle the cardinal gave me and the scarlet velvet one with the gold ornaments. Madame Dayelle, I leave you to look after all this. You see how preoccupied the king and myself are by the disagreeable necessity for this sudden departure."
"Madame has no need to quicken my zeal," said the duenna. "How many chests and trunks must I order to carry everything! Five will suffice, I should think."
"Order six, and go now!" replied the queen. "We must not fall short in this deplorable extremity,—six, without counting those of my women, remember! But let them make their own arrangements, for I haven't the heart to attend to all these details. Yes, François, I am like you; I can think of nothing but these Huguenots, alas! You may go now, Dayelle."
"Any orders for the footmen and coachmen, Madame?"
"Let them wear simply their cloth coats," said the queen. "Go, dear Dayelle, without further loss of time."
Dayelle bowed and had taken three or four steps toward the door, when Mary called her back.
"Dayelle," said she, "when I said that our people should wear only their cloth coats, you understand that I meant for the journey. Let them not fail to take with them their capes of violet velvet and their violet cloaks lined with yellow velvet. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Madame. Has Madame any other orders to give?"
"No, nothing more," said Mary. "But see that everything is done promptly; we have only about three hours. Don't forget the footmen's cloaks."
Dayelle left the room without further hindrance.
Mary then turned to the king.
"You approve of these cloaks for our people, Sire, do you not?" she asked. "The Reformers will surely allow us to dress our household as we think fitting. We must not humiliate royalty too much before the rebels. I even venture to hope, Sire, that we may find it possible to give a little fête in their faces at Amboise, though it be such a detestable place."
François shook his head rather gloomily.
"Oh, don't you sneer at the idea!" said Mary. "That would intimidate them more than you think, by letting them see that, after all, we are not much afraid of them. A ball under such circumstances would be most excellent politics, I am not afraid to say; and even your mother, capable woman that she is, could suggest nothing better. But no matter! For all that I say, my heart is none the less torn, my poor, dear Sire. Ah, the villanous Huguenots!”